


Piece By Piece

by parcequelle



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Early in Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parcequelle/pseuds/parcequelle
Summary: B'Elanna discovers there's more to Tuvok than meets the eye.





	Piece By Piece

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixbeforelunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/gifts).



> Happy Worldbuilding, sixbeforelunch! I had fun writing this and hope you enjoy it! :)

After the captain named her Chief Engineer, B’Elanna spent five hours pacing her quarters, trying to figure out how she was going to do this. Oh, she knew she could boss people around, and she knew she could prove her professional skills in a crisis as well as she could on a slow day, but management? Management of Starfleet personnel who held her in contempt because she stole Joe Carey’s promotion out from under him? She might have had the Maquis onside, and Carey might have reluctantly agreed to accept her authority, but that didn’t mean the others would. And what chance did she have at all with Tuvok the Traitor breathing down her neck, just waiting for her to lose her temper again so he could throw her in the brig? She might as well quit while she was ahead.

Three times, she stalked out into the corridor to find the captain and resign as chief. Three times, she stalked back into her quarters, disgusted, berating herself for being an unworthy _petaQ_. Once, she made a dent in the wall with her fist and then covered it up with a soothing painting of a waterfall Chakotay had given her as a joke. Then she tossed her Engineering crew manifest aside and decided to deal with it tomorrow. Maybe inspiration would come with sleep.

*

Inspiration did not come with sleep; nightmares did. B’Elanna woke, drenched and panting, matted hair blinding her eyes, as she fought off phantom Cardassians and gasped for the breath they had stolen. Isolation paralysed her in bed, and she sucked in deep breaths, cast her eyes around the room to comfort herself with the cool impersonality of Starfleet grey and Starfleet bulkheads and Starfleet-issue bedding. It helped, a bit, but she still wasn’t used to waking up alone. She hadn’t had her own room since before her father left; she’d shared with her mother, and then her roommate at the Academy, and then Seska and Rekali aboard the Val Jean. She wasn’t sure the single quarters were a blessing after all.

Wide awake, now, she retrieved her discarded PADD from earlier, studied the ship’s schematics in detail, and drafted a diagnostic and maintenance schedule for the upcoming weeks. She created a spreadsheet to record the areas of expertise and preferences of her new staff. She made a list of her Maquis officers most in need of a crash course on Starfleet systems.

If inspiration came with insomnia, she’d take it.

*

The first official staff meeting of the newly-combined Starfleet-Maquis (or Maquis-Starfleet, as B’Elanna preferred to think of it) Engineering department was two days later, as gamma shift was rolling over into alpha and she could get everyone in the room. They stood around the humming warp core; Starfleet on one side, the Maquis on the other, B’Elanna before them. She resisted the urge to swallow and said, instead, ‘Hi. Thanks for coming.’ 

Stupid. She’d only look weak for thanking them for following orders. 

‘I’ll keep this brief,’ she said, and then couldn’t think of anything else to say. Seska was smirking, only half laughing with her, and when she glanced across the room, she saw Vorik’s beady little eyes boring into her, judging her inability to speak. She swallowed down the pressure in her throat and held up her PADD, a makeshift shield. ‘I’ve created a schedule for us for the next few weeks. I’m going to try some things out, different shifts and different assignments, see where our strengths and weaknesses are as a… a team. I’d like to accommodate everyone’s wishes.’

‘Excuse me, Lieutenant Torres,’ said Nicoletti. B’Elanna nodded at her. ‘Doesn’t the first officer usually complete the duty rosters?’

At least she’d asked nicely. 

‘Yes,’ B’Elanna said, ‘and he will. But he will also be taking my advice about when and where people are placed, so consider this your chance to bid for your preferred assignments.’

She introduced the maintenance schedule and thought she managed to make it sound like she was on top of things, rather than floundering around an unfamiliar ship with unfamiliar systems. There were a few impertinent questions and a few sullen looks, but she ignored them; if they kept it up, she’d assign them to clean out the plasma injectors.

It was only when they dispersed that she spotted Tuvok the Traitor himself, standing ramrod straight near the environmental control console and giving her an inscrutable look. She rolled her eyes as she brushed past him. ‘If you’ve come to see who I’ve punched today, I’ll have to disappoint you.’

‘Disappointment is a human emotion, Lieutenant. Besides, I fail to see how your holding to Starfleet standards of behaviour would induce it.’

‘My mistake. Can I help you with something?’

‘As security chief, I believe it prudent that you and I designate a weekly appointment during which we can discuss your progress.’

She turned to glare at him, arms crossed. ‘My “progress”?’

‘As a Starfleet officer. You are not an Academy graduate, and must therefore be appropriately instructed in the security measures required of a senior staff member, ideally as soon as possible. I volunteer to act as your instructor.’

B’Elanna digested this, frowning as she leant against the console behind her. ‘Can’t I read over the protocols myself?’

‘That will not suffice.’

Irritation flared bright and hot, and she grit out, ‘I see. And do you expect me to finish my Academy training as well? Take a few dozen exams in my spare time?’

‘It would be a logical course of action.’ B’Elanna felt her eyes bug out of her head. ‘However, Captain Janeway has deemed it unnecessary at this time. Weekly progress meetings will be sufficient.’

So he’d actually _wanted_ her to take the exams? Unbelievable.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘How’s tomorrow at 19:30?’

‘That would be acceptable.’

She couldn’t help the sarcasm that leaked out when she replied, ‘Great, looking forward to it.’

Tuvok, to his credit, just raised an eyebrow and left.

*

The meetings were condescending, infuriating, and annoyingly productive. For all that Tuvok was a humourless walking rulebook, he knew his stuff, and after the first few weeks had passed and Engineering’s efficiency was up 42%, B’Elanna had to reluctantly admit that he was helpful, too. Predictable and dull, but helpful.

Tonight, though, he managed to surprise her. They were in her office in Engineering, almost finished for the evening, when Tuvok said, ‘You are aware, of course, of Mr Paris’ holodeck program “Sandrine’s”.’

It wasn’t a question, but B’Elanna nodded anyway. 

‘And I presume you are also aware of the Mars program being used by several members of the crew?’

B’Elanna nodded again, slower. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Jarvin wrote it.’ She was surprised Tuvok knew about it, though she probably shouldn’t have been. ‘It’s mostly used by the lower-ranked Maquis, but I’m familiar with it. If I may…’

Tuvok cocked an eyebrow and nodded.

‘Is this about the Betazoid garden program that showed up a couple of weeks ago? No one’s owned up to writing it, yet, and it’s become a sort of… neutral ground, I guess you could say, between Starfleet and Maquis.’ Her eyes narrowed at him as cogs clicked into place. ‘In fact, I had a quick look at the file to see if I could figure out who wrote it. Whoever it was knew what they were doing, and knew how to cover their tracks. I thought it might have been Paris, but I now realise he could never have designed something so peaceful and… inoffensive.’ She studied his steady dark eyes, unblinking, and then said, ‘Don’t worry, Lieutenant. Your secret’s safe with me.’

‘I am quite sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Tuvok said blandly. ‘It is well known that Vulcans deem it illogical to engage in recreational activities on the holodeck.’

She smirked, more certain than ever that she had him. ‘Doesn’t mean you didn’t write it.’

‘What possible motivation would I—’

‘You may not use it yourself, but I know you know other species _do_ need to “engage in recreational activities” to recharge. It helps us improve efficiency. I know Vulcans are into that.’ She leant forward on her elbows, eyeing him thoughtfully. ‘I also know you want the crews to integrate, so it makes sense that you’d anonymously create some neutral territory where that could happen.’

There was a drawn-out stretch of silence during which B’Elanna forced herself not to fidget, and then Tuvok seemed to give in. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but she felt the shift in his demeanour nonetheless. And then he said, ‘Should you ever tire of your position as Chief Engineer, Lieutenant, I would welcome you to the ranks of Security/Tactical… Academy graduate or not.’

She smiled. It wasn’t an outright confession, but it was just as good.

*

The next time she heard someone call him Tuvok the Traitor, she told them to can it. He was all right.


End file.
